


The Queen’s Sword

by LostMyWit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Jon Snow is a Dayne, Alternate Universe - Jon Snow is a Knight, Alternate Universe - Jon Snow is a Sand, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Ashara Dayne is Jon Snow’s Mother, Cheating, F/M, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Kingsguard! Jon AU, N plus A equals J, Ned Stark is Jon Snow’s Father, Robert didn’t rebel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyWit/pseuds/LostMyWit
Summary: They say Prince Lewyn had a paramour, and felt no shame for it. But he was not bedding the wife of his king.Ser Jon Dayne, The Sword of the Morning, legitimized bastard of Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark, the deadliest knight of King Aegon VI Targaryen’s kingsguard. And the secret lover of his queen, Arianne Martell. When Arianne’s lifelong friend is named her sworn sword, she finds an opportunity to love and be loved in a way that she never could with her husband. Ser Jon, who has long guarded a flame for his princess, now his queen, attempts to comes to terms with his desire for the woman who he has always known that he loved, but knew he could never have.





	1. Prologue- The  Star and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> A look at my favorite characters in one of my favorite scenarios, written mostly because I couldn’t find one that someone else had done.

Jon Sand had been sired at the Tourney of Harrenhal, that time of great, fleeting joy. His mother, the Lady Ashara Dayne, had enraptured the realm with her laughing purple eyes and her hair like the midnight sky. Lords of standing and knights of valor sought her attention, but the one who captured it had never expected too. 

 

Ned Stark, second son of Rickard Stark and ward of Jon Arryn, had the seen the Lady of Starfall before, on a visit to King's Landing, not long after his seventeenth name day. She was two and twenty then, a lady in waiting to the Princess Elia Martell, wife of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and mother of his son, Aegon. 

To say he was enchanted would have been to say the Wall could get a bit chilly. 

He clung to her every word whenever he heard her speak, and always tried to seat himself near her at meals. He loved listening to her. She was smart, and brash, and _funny _. No one was safe from her silver tongue, and he never had make himself laugh at her wit. Ned dreamed of the talks they could’ve have together if only he could’ve found his own tongue.__

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When he went to yard, he prayed that the fair lady would be there, and he would be able to dazzle her in a feat of arms. He was skilled to be sure, besting several southron knights of repute. He’d taken particular pleasure in fighting a man who touched Ashara against her will, and sending him into the dirt. Alas, the lady was the sister of the Sword of the Morning, and to truly impress her, he thought, would mean defeating him. Try as he might, Ned Stark was never able to best Ser Arthur, though no one could ever say he didn’t try. Many times. 

Robert Baratheon, Ned’s fellow ward and closest companion, offered advice, but it was not helpful. Robert’s brashness could work for him, but Ned knew he could never hope to charm his lady in such a way. Ned was small, especially compared to his friend. Robert had the kind of face that women could look at for hours. Ned had the kind of face that would hardly warrant a second glance. His long features gave him a solemn look that his attitude did nothing to contradict. 

Besides, even if he could’ve succeeded with Robert’s methods, he would not have wanted to. A lady like that, Ned always told himself whenever he was tempted to follow his friend’s advice, deserved to be treated as the wonder that she was. 

So he watched from a distance, and what was first a young boy’s crush on a beautiful lady grew into true love for a woman that was as magnificent on the inside as she was on the outside. It was a shame, he reflected once, that so few took the time to see that side of her. They had missed so much. 

He’d had no idea of the sadness his love felt when he returned to the Vale. 

 

Ashara Dayne had wished for nigh on a month that the quiet wolf would find his voice and then come find her. 

She’d spent her life the object of men’s base desires, something pretty to look upon, nothing more. Until she became wed, and ceased to have her own life entirely, and existed only to pop out child after child. 

But in Ned’s eyes she’d seen something beyond a glaze of lust. She’d seen care, the likes of which that, until then, she thought only women and Arthur capable of. 

Ashara had seen they way he was when she spoke, how he’d listened as intently as a maester. He’d seen his deep gray eyes darken over many times in a quiet range whenever some man spoke over her, and had once seen them burn with furry when a knight shoved his hand down her bosom. She felt a nice burning feeling herself when she saw Ned practically humiliate the man in the yard a few days later. 

Arthur was complementary. As the foremost knight in the kingdom, he was used to boastful warriors challenging him, all eager to supplant him and make their name legend. Very few challenged more than once. 

Ned had come back every day. To both of them, it spoke volumes for his character. 

She’d been sad to see him leave. 

 

When next they met, it was at the feast to start the great tourney at Harrenhal. 

She’d danced first with Arthur, then a turn or two with Oberyn Martell, and old friend of hers, then shared a song with Prince Rhaegar’s friend, Jon Connington. 

But with Ned she’d danced till the feast’s end.

His brother, Brandon, had followed his brother’s eyes, and spoke what he could not. To say Ashara had been delighted by the chance was to say Dorne could get a bit warm. 

Ned had been slow at first, but as the songs picked up, he did too. Wine and ale was poured and drank all around them, but they needed none. They were drunk on each other. 

Ashara led him to a tent, away from where the lords where, intend on showing him how much he missed in King’s Landing. 

Ned was shy at first. He’d given a mumbled confession of having never laid with a woman before, and Ashara felt her heart soar. She had so much to introduce this sweet boy too. 

He’d been smoother than she’d expected when he removed her clothes, and he gently pushed her hands away when she went for his. 

He kissed her first, lovingly, sensually. Then he began his trip south. He told her he wished to kiss every last bit of her, and he was as true to his word as ever. Ashara basked in his affections, thinking for a moment that none of her other lovers had ever made her feel even remotely this good. Then she banished all thoughts of other men from her mind. There was only him. 

When Ashara feared she would soon be left too tired to do anything else with him, she grasped his face and pulled it up to hers. He did not stop her when she went for his cloths this time. 

He was eager, but still as caring as before, making a point to ensure his lover was satisfied. When he spilled himself inside her, she pulled him close against her body. She never wanted to let him go. 

She didn’t for the whole of the tourney. 

 

The tourney ended, and reign of King Aerys II not long after. In the brief conflict called Rhaegar’s Rebelion, the prince of Dragonstone deposed his mad father. Most of the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms had supported him, but small pockets of loyalist were found all over, and these had to be snuffed out. Ser Jonothor Darry of the kingsguard gave his life for his new king in one such battle, and then his name to the nephew of his sworn brother. 

When Eddard Stark returned to his home, he found it threatened from beyond the Wall. Leading the forces of the North, he fought back the great host of wildlings and their self proclaimed king. But the end of the conflict saw the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch killed. With no successor apparent, Ned took the black himself and was voted the new Lord Commander. 

He swore his oath and gave his life to the Wall. But he never forgot his Dornish love.


	2. The Princess’s Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Sand catches the eye of Dorne’s princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through the prologue, here’s the main pairing.

The child of the union was born at his mother’s home of Starfall, at the mouth of the Torintine, where house Dayne had once ruled as kings. His uncle, Ser Arthur, was present, and suggested the name ‘Jon’, for the fallen Ser Jonothor Darry. Ashara knew Ned would’ve approved.

The Stark in him was clear. Even as an infant, it was apparent he would have the long face and solemn gray eyes of his Northern sire. Ashara wished she could show Ned the son they had made together, but the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch didn’t need a bastard on his conscience, nor could he raise the child without forsaking his sworn duty. So Ashara raised their son herself.

Of course, ‘herself’ was a relative term. Her father had been displeased with the affair, but the babe quickly made him forget it all. Surely nothing that created such a wonderful little thing could have been sinful. Besides, he had his heir in his eldest son. The actions of a third child did little tarnish their name.

The entire castle of Starfall loved the boy, as they loved his mother. Young Jon would find no ill will there.

He had just has his fifth name day when he went to the Water Gardens. His mother had been summoned to Sunspear to represent her house at the Martell’s court, and her son had been invited as well.

At the Water Gardens, he played with the children of lords from all over Dorne. But there was one whose company he sought before all others: the princess Arianne Martell.

She was older than him by more than four years, but still just a girl, but Jon thought she was the most incredible being in the world. She was so smart and nice, and she would always make him laugh. The only time when the other children said hurtful things to him for being a bastard, she had been there to help.

That day occurred about a month after Jon’s arrival. Jon had picked an orange and given it to his princess with a bow like he’d seen men give his mother, and she kindly accepted his gift and thanked him, calling him her knight. Jon had swelled with pride, his childish mind falling more in love, when a bigger boy came and him pushed him over.

The other child, an Yronwood, said that a Northerner’s bastard had no business in being with a princess. Jon hadn’t known what bastard was, but he knew it could be nothing good. His eyes stung with tears and he ran from the bigger boy to hide.

Arianne found him later, in a corner where he’d spent the day wondering what a bastard was. She brought him a pastry. Then she sat down and held his hand and told him to never let anyone tell him he wasn’t worthy of anything, but especially of her company. She told him he would always be welcome with her. Jon cried again, but tears of happiness, and he offered half of the pastry to the princess, who took it with a smile.

From that day on, Jon Sand was unquestioningly devoted too, and in love with Arianne Martell.

He left the Water Gardens soon, and returned with his mother to Starfall. By now, he was old enough to begin to train. He practiced in the yard with his cousin Gerold and the guard’s children, all under the same master-at-arms that had taught the Sword of the Morning.

Whenever he went to Sunspear, he trained under Oberyn Martell and his daughters, and with Areo Hotah, who taught him how to wield all manner of arms, from swords and knives, to spears and axes, to whips and throwing daggers.

But young Jon’s most important teacher, his hero, was Uncle Arthur. The Sword of the Morning taught his young nephew from the time he was seven, grooming him for the day he would take up the mantle.

Young Jon dreamed of two things: the day he would become Sword of the Morning, and Princess Arianne Martell.

 

Of all the children at the Water Gardens, Arianne decided, Jon Sand was her favorite.

He was quiet, but so sincere. With most he was solemn, but with her, he was so sweet. She meant it when she said he would grow to be her finest knight. With an uncle like he has, how could he not?

She loved the way his face lit up whenever she accepted one of his small gifts. Her heart had nearly broken for him on the day Cletus Yronwood called him a bastard. Jon was the nicest child at the gardens, and his being base born should never have any bearing on who he could associate with. As for the Yronwood boy, who was he to say who was permitted in Arianne’s company? She would befriend a thousand bastards before the likes of him.

She lamented that he was so much younger. She wished he was old enough to play with her and Drey and Sylva and Daemon. _Perhaps when he is older _, she thought to herself.__

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But for now, he was the small boy that would give her gifts in exchange for smiles. She watched him train, and was impressed by the pace at which he learned. He uncle had numerous young pages learning from him, but Jon was the most skilled. He would grow to be a great knight indeed. _Her _great knight.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to stay true to the characters, but still factor in the alternate upbringings. Here’s hoping I got it close. Comments and critizism always apreadiated. Might do a longer fic of Ash and Ned in a different scenario if anyone wants it. Or I want to get it out of my head. Whichever. Thanks for reading.


	3. The Rise of a Rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne decides Jon will turn out just fine. He just needs a nudge in the right(?) direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little longer this time.

When Jon was two and ten, he was summoned to King’s Landing to squire for his uncle. He had never seen so grand a city in Dorne. It astounded him.

But Dorne and the Crownlands were so… different. In King’s Landing, Jon introduced himself as a Sand and saw people make a face like they’d just stepped in something unpleasant. Nevermind that he was the squire of the greatest knight in the realm.

But that didn’t last long, or at least, it wasn’t very bad for long. In the yard, Jon trained with the other squires of the Kingsguard and lord’s sons, and bested them all. He even crossed swords with the Prince Aegon, heir to the Iron Throne, squire to the White Bull, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower. Royal blood proved to mean naught, as Jon defeated the prince in nearly every match they had. Ser Arthur’s smile of pride had made Jon feel a prince himself.

 

Some time after after coming to King’s Landing, a tourney was held for Princess Rhaenys’s wedding to Ser Garlan Tyrell. A squier’s tourney was also held, as the king felt that the younger fighters deserved a chance of glory. When Jon heard of it, he felt beyond elated.

Lords great and small came and brought their sons to the tourney to fight before the king. Mace Tyrell brought a great host of Reachmen for his son’s wedding, and his younger son Loras had come to fight in the squires tourney. Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell, came with his son, Robb, and his younger brother, Benjen. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East, brought his nephew, Elbert, and his great nephew Harry.

But Jon was most excited about the arrival of Oberyn Martell, accompanied by his daughters and a slew of Dornish knights and squires and lord’s sons. And his niece.

 

Princess Arianne Martell, along with her younger brother Quenty, made the trip north with her uncle for her cousin's wedding. It had been years since she’d seen her, even longer since she’d visited King’s Landing.

Arianne knew that her father was up to something. He had been distant with her of late, and she knew she was going north for for more than the wedding and the tourney. She was seven and ten, a woman grown and unwed. She wasn’t stupid. This was an opportunity for her to be showcased to the realm. Or worse, she had already been promised, and she was going to meet him.

If the northern lords were expecting a maiden, they would be disappointed. She had laid first with Daemon Sand, the bastard of Godsgrace, nearly two years past. In truth, Arianne would have much prefered a different Sand in his place, but he had been to young, and away besides.

In her time since the Water Gardens, Arianne’s taste had grown with her. Pretty boys, she was finding, were her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and dangerous as well. She’d long nursed a fantasy of a dashing rogue stealing her away and having his way with her.

She wondered vaguely if Jon would grow into that kind of man. She could hope, but she doubted it. Jon had it well within him to be one of the greatest knights of his time, but he would always place duty and honor ahead of all. She expected that a good many girls would be saddened by that.

_Still though,_ she thought, _it will be good to see him again._

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Her cousin, Elia, was also eager to see Jon again, but she was visibly so. Elia was one and ten, of age with Jon. She had grown fond of him when he had trained under the Red Viper, and her affection had grown rampant in his absence. Jon had been kind to her, but his own affection had always been for someone else. Namely her.

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“He will spurn her,” she told her uncle one night, stopped at an inn in the south of the Crownlands. It was late, and Elia had spoken and asked of Jon all through dinner. “He’s too proper to anything with her. All that will come of this is Elia getting hurt.”

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Oberyn just laughed. “They are young”, he said. “Elia will have plenty of time for other boys. And besides, Jon has been in King’s Landing for some time.” he grinned. “Mayhaps time in that nest of lies had made a respectable rouge out of him.”

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Arianne just scoffed. “Please, under Ser Arthur Dayne? If anything, he’ll be even worse.”

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Her uncle drank a sip and gave her a knowing smile. “Arthur Dayne has done his share of roguish acts. He managed to do what most of us don’t even bother trying; reconciling his duty with his desires. However he does it, it must work for him.”

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Arianne asked for more details, but Oberyn just waved her off. He said that Arthur had told him in confidence, and it was not for him to decide who knew. Arianne drifted off soon after that, the wine sending her to sleep.

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Jon felt like his heart was going to burst. The princess was _breathtaking._

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She was at the head of the Dornish entourage as they entered the throne room in the Red Keep. The queen beamed at her neice, and the king smiled. Ser Arthur smiled a well, but it was a sly one, and he was looking at his squire.

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The Princess’s dress was more modest that what she would have worn at home, but still showed more than the northerners typically saw as decent. She had grown into a woman, full, yet slender, and utterly _captivating._

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The queen held a supper in the Small Hall, with the Dornish party and few others in attendance. King Rhaegar was hosting a larger gathering in the Great hall. The only Reachman present at the queen’s was the groom to be, Ser Garland.

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Had the king been there, he might have taken notice of the tenderness with which Ser Arthur danced with Queen Elia, or the look of pride he wore as he watched Princess Rhaenys with her betrothed, or the knowing look Oberyn Martell had throughout.

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Princess Arianne certainly did. _Roguish acts indeed._

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Some ways into the night, the Queen called for silence. All eyes turned to her, at the high table of the hall.

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“Lords and Ladys,” she announced, “ It gives me great joy that you, my countrymen, will be the first to know of this. A betrothal has been arranged between my son, Prince Aegon, and my niece, Princess Arianne!”

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The Small Hall erupted into cheers, and toast were made the present half of the new royal couple, but Arianne felt herself growing cold.

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_I will be queen,_ she realized _, _but I won’t rule Dorne.__

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Arianne had felt blessed from birth that she was born into a house that let their women rule, like the Rhônenars of old . But the rest of the Seven Kingdoms followed the Andal tradition. As Aegon’s queen, she would hold no true power. She would not be allowed to rule, only to whelp out his silver haired children.

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When the chatter of the room died, the Queen spoke again.

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“The wedding shall take place in three years time, on the three hundredth anniversary of Aegon the Conqueror's landing.” Elia said. “Until then, they shall divide their time between Sunspear and King’s Landing.”

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The room applauded once more, and the queen took her seat, and the drone of a hundred voice returned.

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A dozen lords and ladys came up to congratulate her, but Arianne had never felt more invisible in her life.

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Jon felt like he blew a vein in neck trying to hold his face in check. The night had gone from bad to worse, and it was still young.

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So far, he’d spent the evening trying to politely decline the advancements of Elia Sand. The girl kept sitting by him, batting her lashes and wrapping her hands around his arm. When she brushed his trousers over his crotch, he’d stood up abruptly, and muttered some excuse before scurrying off.

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Then the Queen called for silence.

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Jon didn’t know what to think except he was the grandest fool of all time. Of course she was marrying someone. She was one of the most eligible women in the realm. He’d been stupid to hold on to any hope of ever being hers. He’d known all that for years. So why did hurt so damn much not that it had finally happened?

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He realized Ser Arthur was watching him, and tried to look bored. He must have not managed it.

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His uncle placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic look that said _we’ll discuss it later._

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Jon nodded. Then he found the nearest wine gobet and drained it. Then found another and did the same. Twice.

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He regretted it the moment he woke up. His head was splitting, and it took a moment to realize were he was.

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He was still in the Small Hall. It seemed he’d never left. Groggy, with his head screaming at every step, he lurchingly made his was to his cell at the White Tower.

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He collapsed on his bed as soon as he opened the door, but it seemed he’d hardly been there a minute before a familiar hand grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.

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He opened his eyes and met his uncle’s stern gaze with his own weary one. And his reason for drinking in the first place came back to him.

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Ser Arthur was firm but kind, as he always has been with Jon. He told Jon there was nothing wrong with his boyish love, but that he has to hold himself together. Wine didn’t make problem go away, not truly. Jon just nodded mutely.

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After a skin of water and a change of clothes, he felt better. His head still ached, but it didn’t split at every little light and noise.

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He went out to the yard, and was confused at first to find it more crowded than usual. Then he remembered the squier’s tourney, and he regretted his previous night all the more.

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_At least it’s not today,_ he thought gratefully. _I still have day to get my head back on the right way._

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He sparred a few times that morning, and gave more than he got, but still felt feeble, especially after watching Loras Tyrell best three other squires at the same time.

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By now, the whole of the Red Keep was aware of the imiance of another royal wedding. King Rhaegar had made an announcement much like the queen’s before his own gathering the night before. There was also talking, rumour of course, that Prince Aegon has celebrated news of his betrothal by rutting with a serving wench after the feast.

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The very thought made Jon angry. He was going to marry the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. He has no business laying with anyone besides her.

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There was another feast that night, and the squire’s tourney was the next morning. Jon made a point to not have any wine that night. It was difficult, though, because every time he looked up at the high table, he saw Arianne. Sitting next to the prince.

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The second night’s feast, Arianne decided, was less enjoyable than the first. She suspected the company has something to do with that.

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Aegon was jovial. He had grown handsome, she supposed, with his regal cheekbones and violet eyes and silver blond hair to his shoulders.

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_He’s definitely pretty,_ she conceded, _but definitely not _dark or dangerous.__

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Aegon was as his father was in his youth, more bookish than boisterous, and decidedly unwarlike, and, as of yet, he has found no scroll inspiring him to change his ways. He knew laws and justice, and the subtle art of ruling, and so long as he kept good generals, he could be a good king.

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But he would almost certainly never be the kind of man that made Arianne’s heart quicken. And that was a problem.

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Aegon took would take lovers, she knew. She wasn’t particularly bothered by it. It would only be an issue of he was bothered by her doing the same. Considering the history of Targaryen king's reaction to such, she didn’t have high hopes.

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He hardly said a word to her for half the feast. When it the time came for them to open the dance, he fumbled through a single turn with her before going off after some wench’s skirt.

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Then she saw Jon, off to the side, and felt struck by his appearance. He was about two years younger than Aegon, and shorter, but he somehow looked man grown then. It was said of bastards that they grew up faster than trueborn children. Or perhaps it was the way his dark eyes flashed when the met hers, or the scowl he was barely able to hold back as she danced with another man, still holding his gaze.

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He was still too young, she told herself, but that meant he was still malleable. There was a passion within him, bright and hot as dragon fire. In a few years time, she though wickedly, she would have her dark, dangerous, knight.

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_Roguish acts indeed._

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_She held my gaze all night. It drove me mad. What was she playing at?_

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Jon shook the thought of her from his head. He could not afford to be distracted.

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It was the first day of the squire’s tourney. The first event would be the tilt.

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Jon felt nervous. Ser Arthur had trained him to use lance and shield, but he was not as skilled with them as he was with his sword. He has heard some of the other squiers, Loras Tyrell in particular, had skill to rival most knights.

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_Don’t think about what you’ve heard about them,_ Uncle Arthur’s voice spoke in his mind. _Face every man as you would any other, until you know there skills for yourself._

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The tourney grounds were crowded with lords and small folk alike. Jon risked a glance and found the one he sought almost immediately. On the royal dias.

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Arianne was wearing a dress of flowing orange silk, as radiant as the sun of her sigal, but oh, so much easier on his eyes. A golden snake was around her bare arm, and a diadem of the same metal rested amongst her flowing black hair.

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Aegon was not with her now, and for that he was grateful. The prince was preparing for his tilt, for he would open the tourney against the squire of Ser Barristan the Bold. As a fellow squire to a kingsguard, the list masters has thought it a good match to open the day.

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Jon was later in the list, as was a bastard’s place.

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Aegon won his tilt after breaking a lance against his opponent. The crowd roared for their prince as he road by they, clad in the black armor his father has worn in his youth.

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Jon’s first tilt came later, against some hedge knight’s squire. He won with ease to an indifferent audience, but he chanced a look at his princess, and saw a small smile. From next to the queen, Ser Arthur smiled as well.

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That was all he needed.

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He won his next two matches as well, as did Aegon. They had been against lesser Lannisters and lower lord’s sons from the Vale and the Riverlands.

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By his fourth tilt, only eight riders remained. His next foe would be Loras Tyrell.

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The youth from Highgarden was slender and handsome, with an easy smile and air of grace. He’d been a favorite of the crowd from the start, with the cheers for his victories near as loud as those for Aegon’s.

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The watchers had slowly begun to root for Jon as he rode throughout the day, claiming victory each time thus far, but this seemed to be where there supported ended. The cheers for Loras were deafening compared to his own.

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He ignored it, as he has before, and concentrated instead on the the smiles he hoped to see again.

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They faced off on opposite ends of the tilt, and road towards each other. Jon knew immediately this would be his toughest opponent of the day. He has seen Loras ride today, but mostly against riders as untrained as the ones Jon himself bested.

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Loras’s lance broke against his shield and he felt his arm start to go numb. They rounded their horses and faced each other once more.

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This time, Jon made sure land his lance his Loras’s head on, while tilting his own to divert his opponent’s. Loras, who has been preparing a hard thrust, was caught unaware when his lance started to slip, and was then jolted by Jon’s. The squire from Highgarden was knocked back, then knocked off. Jon could hardly believe it himself.

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Aegon won against the squire of Ser Oswell Whent, and Jon drefeared Harrold Hardyng of the Vale. The great nephew of Jon Arryn proved much less a challenge than Loras Tyrell.

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But he now had to face the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. And the future husband of the woman he loved. Whichever aspect of Aegon he focused on would determine the result of tourney.

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And quiet posible a good deal of his life.

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Arianne watched with bated breath as her squire rode against her prince.

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She had Jon watched win five tilts today, and with each one became more confident in the plan that was quickly forming in her mind.

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He was fierce. And proud. He road to prove that a bastard could fight just as well as any highborn lord. And he was succeeding.

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To see him beat Aegon would be the sweetest prize of the day. It would let her plant in his mind he was worthy of everything Aegon was worthy of. Even her.

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Jon did not disappoint. He rode fast and hard for the prince, a different approach than he’d all day. Aegon was taken back, then forced back the strength of Jon’s thrust.

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Arianne’s betrothed was knocked clear from his horse by a bastard.

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Jon immediately became himself again, dismounting to help his prince from the ground. Aegon eager grabbed Jon’s arm and held it up, seemingly unphased by the defeat.

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Jon remounted his horse and took the crown of flowers. She watched as he rode past the stands, past a dozen beautiful maidens, right up to her.

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“No woman here,” he proclaimed, “can match you, my princess. Dorne will be sad to loose you, but the rest of the realm shall gain a queen of unsurpassable wonderfulness. I name you Queen of love and beauty.”

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Arianne allowed him to place the crown on her head, and smiled at him, but it was not the smile of a maiden. It was the smirk of a Dornish woman.

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Jon won the sword competition with much trouble. Ser Garland won the tourney proper, and crowned the princess he would wed, though most of the kingsguard did not participate. For the rest of her stay in King’s Landing Arianne did not go to close to Jon, but she winked at him and licked her lips whenever she caught his gaze on her.

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She returned to Dorne confidant that the seeds she had planted would bare her a most satisfying fruit.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making Jon OP or Gary Sue if he comes off as such. I wasn’t 100% with the way I wrote it, but its what I could come up with keeping the end result in mind. Next chapter will be where the rating is earned.


	4. The Fruit of Her Labor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne and Jon have a surprise meeting in Starfall. Arianne decides to check on Jon’s progress. She is not disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry.

After proving himself the best of the squires, Jon set about proving himself against proper men and knights. By the time he was four and ten, he had beaten nearly all the knights in King’s Landing, save the kingsguard, and even those he could give an honest challenge to. 

His prowess had attracted the attention of one King Rhaegar’s guest, Syrio Forel of Braavos, who, offered to teach Jon in the sword style that the Braavosi used, called Water Dancing. Jon accepted, and found the style a fascinating change from the style of the Seven Kingdoms. Under Syrio’s tutelage, Jon could strike faster and see sharper than ever. 

He’d accompanied Ser Arthur on half a dozen rides to root bandits out of the King’s Wood and other places where such men hid, wetting his blade and getting a taste of true combat. 

About two year’s time after the wedding of Princess Rhaenys, Jon and Ser Arthur returned to Starfall for a brief time. He was happy to see his mother again, and his cousin Edric, who was just now growing old enough to learn to fight. Allyria was beginning a betrothal to a lord from the Dornish Marches. 

And a guest he hadn’t been warned about would be staying in the castle with them. 

 

Arianne hadn’t planned to be at Starfall when Jon was, but she was glad she was. He was coming along very nicely. 

He still wasn’t tall, but she so small that wouldn’t be a problem. Everything else about his body could have come right out of her fantasy. His features had become harder and sharper, and his gray eyes were almost black. He wore his dark hair down to his shoulders, but he kept his face cleanly shaven. He was corded muscle from head to heel, obviously strong regardless of his lean frame. 

Arianne was visiting as many houses of Dorne as she could before making the final trip back to King’s Landing. Also gathered at Starfall were Ser Gerold and the Daynes of High Hermitage, as well as few lesser houses. 

A feast was held that night, and Jon was permitted seating a the high table. Arianne had had him placed right next to her. She claimed it was so that she would have someone to talk too, but that wasn’t even half of all that she planned. 

He was quiet at first, seemingly confused as to why a princess would still wish to talk to him, but it wasn’t long before she had him speaking more than he ever had in his life. He told her about court, and all the gossip he’d picked up, and she’d shared her own from Sunspear. He spoke of fighting beside Ser Arthur, trying be modest, but Arianne had spoken to the knight before this, and knew Jon’s tales showed only a fraction of his valor and prowess. Then they talked about women. 

He went red in the face when she asked if he had bedded anyone yet, then again when she remarked it was a shame when he said he hadn’t. 

All the while, she had touched his arm and battered her eyes and played with her hair, and even his a time of two. When the meal came, she made a show of running her tongue along a large red pepper, before gasping at the heat after biting into it. 

Jon looked about to burst. 

She retired after the meal, and after most of the noise from the hall died down, crept to Jon’s bedroom. She found him undressing, with his shirt and boots already off and his trousers unlaced, and praised the Seven for her good fortune. It was too perfect. 

He stuttered when he saw her, but she raised a finger to her lips. Then she closed the door behind her. 

She placed a gentle hand on his chest, broad for his frame from years of training, and guided him to his bed. 

“My princess,” he said, flustered, “what are you doing?”. 

She smiled her Dornish woman’s smile up at him. “Why, can’t you see? I’m rewarding the finest man in my service.” 

She finished unlacing his trousers and pulled them down and his cock sprang up. Arianne looked up at him with her large dark eyes as she planted kisses up, and feathered it with her tongue. 

“My princess,” he gasped. She found it endearing that he struggled to be proper, no matter the situation,” We cannot do this.” 

“I will be queen,” she told him, “I may do as I please.”

With than, she took him into her mouth, and he groaned in pleasure. She found his hand and placed on her head, and was delighted when he grabbed her hair and pushed her down. She rewarded him for it by taking him in entity.

He lasted long for a man as young and inexperienced as him. She felt his hold on her tighten as he twitched and burst in her mouth, and she eagerly swallowed it all. 

When they separated, she rose, planning to leave, but he grabbed her by the wrist and threw her on the bed. 

She expected him to take her, then and there, and when he hiked up her dress, cool air hit her sex and she realized how well and truly wet she was. 

Jon lifted the dress up past her breast, and began sucking the large, dark nipples, as he teased her cunt with his hand. She gasped at how good it felt, utterly blindsided by the movement of his fingers and tongue. As she started to moan louder, he moved his head down her body, leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses as he went. 

When he reached her cunt, he covered it with his mouth and sucked, and Arianne almost peaked then and there. 

When he started licking it became very difficult not to. His technique would need refining, but his eagerness was undoubtable. 

“Long, slow, licks,” she told him, between gasp. “Start at the bottom and come all the way- yesssss, just like that, Jon!” She ran both hands through his hair and fought the urge to bury his face in her cunt. “You’re doing your princess a great service, you know! Your doing so well, making me feel so good!”

She picked up her hips and began grinding against his face, as his tongue went into her folds. She cried in pleasure, and it wasn’t long before she peaked all over Jon’s face. He didn’t pull away for a second. 

She finally had to push him off of her, but first pulling his head back up to hers for long kiss. Then she fixed her dress and said goodnight to him, and headed back to her chambers. 

She was more pleased than ever with her plan. He was already an excellent lover, and time would only hone his skills. In time, she would be able to bring him back to King’s Landing as a member of her guard, and then she would be able to be with him at any time she wished. 

He had surprised her. She had not expected him to make any attempts to take her at all, and definitely not to have been so devoted to giving her pleasure. Of course, she realized, she was a fool to not have expected that. Ever since he was a boy, Jon has been nothing if not generous to her. But tonight her had shown her his passion, his willingness to take what he wanted, and the fierceness with which he did. 

He was turning into the dark knight she had been dreaming of for years. 

When she reached her chamber, she found another dark knight waiting for her, bare steel across his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any cringes caused my attempts at a sex scene. Tried to channel the way they are in the books. May or may not have succeeded. If anyone wants a smut story of Arianne and Jon, ask and I may do it, but not in this work. Criticism always welcome. I need to know if I suck. Thanks for reading.


	5. The Dark Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon helps Arianne escape from her prison. If you guessed who the Dark Knight was, you get a cookie. No, it’s not Batman.

Jon woke the next morning before dawn, with the castle in a state of uproar. They has just found the princess gone, along with Ser Gerold. Jon was hardly awake before he took out a horse, a sword, and a length of rope, and galloped off toward High Hermitage. 

 

Arianne has not gone quietly. She had clawed at Darkstar‘s eyes and delayed him at every chance she had. When they arrived at High Hermitage, Ser Gerold locked her in one of the towers. 

“Why so aggressive?” he asked her mockingly. “You told me once you’d always dreamed of being kidnapped by some dark, dangerous knight.” 

She almost rolled her eyes, regretting that she ever told him that. But instead, she made herself angry. She had no weapon, and could not defeat him herself, but she could make it easier for someone else to. 

“I’ve already found him,” she spat. “I’m already thinking of ways to reward him after he’s killed you.” 

Ser Gerold just laughed. “You can’t mean that bastard squire, can you?” he goded. “My young cousin is fierce, but he’s not like me. There are no men like me.” 

Ser Gerold left after that. As soon as he left, Arianne tore strips of silk from her dress and tied them around a bar on her window. The long orange stream stood out clear against the stone of the castle. Jon would know exactly where to find her. 

 

When Jon came within sight of High Hermitage, he dismounted his horse and made his way on foot, staying as much out of sight as possible. Most of the household was back at Starfall, adamant that they thad not known Darkstar’s plan. The castle would be nearly empty of guards. 

Jon had played at the castle before as a child, and knew where to climb the walls. He used the rope and his dagger to scale them, then saw a fluttering of orange at the top of one of the towers. He recognized the silk from Arianne’s dress, and made a note of the location. He went through the castle through a side door, and made his way up the stairs. He encountered no one until he saw a lone guard, beside a barred door. He drew his sword and rounded the corner, taking the man by surprise, and killing him swiftly. 

He lifted the bar on the door, and was met with an empty room. He walked in slowly, then heard a small gasp behind him. He turned to quickly to see Arianne, holding a chamber pot over her head. 

Jon couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to brain your rescuer?”

“Save your jest for later,” but she smiled as well. She embraced him quickly, and he handed her a dagger, then they left the room. Jon was wondering if they could get over the wall and to his horse, when they heard voices down the hall. Jon raised his sword just as Darkstar came into view, a man at arms in tow. 

Ser Gerold looked taken back, but quickly recovered and drew his own steel. 

“Go and stall them at the gate,” he told the man at arms. “I can handle my bastard cousin.” 

He swung at Jon, who blocked, returned, and started pressing Gerold back. Jon didn’t realize Gerold was armored until he made a strike, only for it to collide with metal with a dull clang. Jon then realized how much a disadvantage he was at. 

He concentrated his efforts on Darkstar’s unprotected head, making sure to stay on the attack, to keep his opponent from having long enough to think about how easily he could win. 

Jon saw an opening and took it, slashing Ser Gerold’s ear. The knight cried and lashed out in furry, hitting Jon in the sword arm. It was with the flat of the blade, but was enough to disarm him. Darkstar grinned, and raised own sword, preparing for the final blow. 

He opened his mouth, doubtlessly to mock his cousin one last time, but all that came forth was a cry of pain. The knight fell, and behind him, Arianne stood, holding the dagger Jon had given her, fire dancing in her eyes. Jon immediately picked his sword up and brought it down in Darkstar’s head. 

They head more voices coming, and Jon felt certain he would not be able to fight off any more men, but his dread turned to joy when he saw the ice white scale mail of the kingsguard. Ser Arthur had come. 

“Jon,” he exclaimed, “Are you hurt, where is…” the knight trailed off as he saw his cousin’s corpse, his blood on Jon’s sword, and Arianne right behind him. 

“Jon… did you, you were able to…?”

“He did.” 

Jon and Ser Arthur turned to Arianne, now standing, the dagger absent from her hands. “Jon snuck into the castle and rescued me, then killed Ser Gerold in single combat.” Jon was about to protest, but Arianne shot him a look. “He is a hero, Ser Arthur. He saved my life.” 

Jon was knighted that day. Ser Arthur had him kneel before him, and Jon took his vows to protect his king, defend the weak, and act with honor. Arianne stayed by his side the entire time. The moment Ser Arthur was gone, Arianne threw her arms around Jon and kissed him fiercely. Jon wrapped her up and kissed her right back. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear. 

She smiled and whispered back “I knew you would rescue me,”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for OP Jon. I know very little about sword fighting and tried to make it make sense. If you’ve read this much, you deserve a prize for indulging me. Thanks for reading, criticism always appreciated.


	6. The Fallen Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon acends to the throne, and Jon has to keep him on it. Hope this doesn’t turn into a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arianne becomes queen, Jon starts gaining more widespread fame. The Ironborn ruin everything.

Before they returned to Starfall, a raven was sent to the Arbor, calling for Lord Redwyne to send a galley up to the mouth of the Torintine to ferry the princess on to King’s Landing. Arianne insisted Jon accompany her and Ser Arthur, so that the king could properly reward him.

She would have rewarded him herself, but the ship was too small for them to escape Ser Arthur for long.

The King himself rode out to meet them, and the crowd cheered as they saw their future queen. She was surrounded by a ring of Martell and Targaryen guardsmen, but it was Jon at her side that made her feel safe.

The throne room of the Red keep was as full as Arianne has ever seen it when they entered. Rhaegar rode the length of the room, and seated himself on the Iron Throne.

“Jon Sand,” he called, after silence had fallen. Jon knelt before the king. “For the daring rescue of my son’s betrothed and for slaying the traitor Ser Gerold, I declare you legitameant in the eyes of the crown, and grant you the castle of High Hermitage, and all its lands and incomes. Rise, Ser Jon Danye.

Jon was astounded. Never had he expected such a grand reward.

_I am a Dayne,_ he realized. _I have a name of my own, and a chance to be the Sword of the Morning_.

The good feelings did not last long. Tragedy struck that night, when king Rhaegar died in his sleep. The King had been hiding an illness, and none but the queen and a select few maesters knew. The bells rang at the Great Sept of Baelor to honor the most loved Targaryen king in a hundred years.

The grandest funeral any in King’s Landing could remember was held for Rhaegar, and his son was coronated in the next sentnight.

The new king was hardly given time to mourn or find his footing. Within days of taking the throne, word reached the city of the Ironborn rebelling, and Balon Greyjoy declaring himself king of his islands.

Jon sailed from Dragonstone along side the king and kingsguard for Oldtown, where most of the fleet was to gather. It would be the largest conflict since the War of the Nine-Penny Kings, nearly half a century past.

Jon felt proud to take part in such an endeavor, but was also worried. Besides, Darkstar, the only men he’d ever faced in true combat were common bandits. In this fight he would face Ironborn raiders, whose ferocity and strength was the stuff of legend. But the king has personally asked that he come, to help lead the forces of Dorne beside the princes Oberyn, Lewyn, and Quentyn Martell. Jon could not refuse such a task.

He thought back to the send-off Arianne had given him. The night before departing, the king had held a feast for those going off to war. While Aegon was entertaining, Arianne had pulled Jon away, and promptly took him in her mouth, with Jon returning the favor as soon as she has finished. Before separating, she has pulled him in tight and whispered in his ear.

“Make sure you come back, my knight. I have so much more to show you.”

Jon wiped the dreamy grin from his face and brought his mind back to the present. He had to survive what was ahead first.

The combined fleet went north from Oldtown, King Aegon wishing to beat the Ironborn back into submission with a single, crushing blow. Jon admired him for his boldness, and the plan has its merits. The Ironborn were raiders, relying on speed and surprise to take there prize and get away safely, and it has been years since they could raid in large numbers. The Ironborn of the day were more farmers, fishers, and merchants than anything else.

But part of him worried Aegon was going headlong into a trap. The Ironborn were crafty, and they might very well be expecting such an attack. If that was the case, the realm wood lose most of its strength a sea, and exposed to a host of other threats. Much was riding on this war, perhaps more than Aegon realized. But he was the king, and if this was how the king would wage the war, then Jon would follow him. He owed him that much, having thrown so much of his oath to him to the wind.

They attacked the Ironborn at every chance they had, swarming the islands all at once. Jon’s force would be taking the Greyjoy island of Pyke, and the stronghold that sat on it.

As Aegon’s catapults hurled massive stones at the walls, Jon waited beside Ser Arthur, ready to the for the storming that would follow. When the walls fell, Jon was part of the first group in. He and his uncle fought their way to Balon’s keep, cutting down a dozen ax wielding warriors to reach the Kraken who claimed a crown. The two of them pulled Balon Greyjoy off his Sea Stone chair, and forced him at swordpoint to surrender and swear fealty to King Aegon. Greyjoy complied.

His younger brothers came less quietly. Euron Greyjoy slipped away, but Victarion, commander of the Island Fleet, rallied his ships and the King's forces off the shores of Pyke. Jon and Ser Arthur rushed to meet him, making straight for Victarion's Iron Victory. They faced him and a handful of his fiercest raiders, slicking the deck with blood.

As Jon fought two warriors at once, the Sword of the Morning battled the Iron Captain. Jon was just finishing one of his foes and he heard a shout. He turned just in time to see Victarion tear his ax out of Ser Arthur’s belly. Jon screamed in rage, swinging down hard on the remaining man, cutting straight through the shaft of his ax and into his head. Jon then ran for his uncle’s body, leaving his sword in the Ironborn’s skull. Victarion started to laugh, likely expecting Jon to cradle the body, but instead he picked up Dawn, and furiously slashed at Greyjoy. The blade caught under the head of his enemy’s ax, and Jon flung it away, then cut through Greyjoy’s legs. He would not grant him a quick death. He and his brother would feel the King’s justice.

Victarion Greyjoy dropped on his own blood soaked deck, his leg nearly severed at the knee. Jon swung the flat of his blade into his head and knocked him out cold. Then he dropped Dawn and rushed to Ser Arthur.

The White Knight was holding in his own guts in when Jon knelt down by him. He looked up with dying eyes and sputtered through bloodstained lips.

“Jon…” he said shakily, “Did you, is Greyjoy…?”

“Yes,” Jon assured him, tears forming in his eyes. “Yes, Greyjoy is beaten.”

The tension left the knight’s body. He suddenly looked calm. Satisfied.

“You will be the Sword of the Morning now, Jon.” Ser Arthur said. “You will wield Dawn better than any of us.”

Jon nodded. “I swear I will, uncle.”

“Jon?”

“Yes, uncle?”

“You love Arianne, don’t you? Don’t say anything, I haven’t time, and I already know. Make sure she knows. Tell her. Be there for her. And Jon?”

“Yes, uncle?”

“Tell Elia I love her. Tell her I’m sorry we could never be anymore than a secret.”

Jon nodded, the meaning of the words not setting in yet. The knight’s eyes closed, and Jon felt Ser Arthur, his uncle, his teacher, his hero, the invincible Sword of the Morning, slip away.

 

Aegon’s plan to crush the Ironborn in one swift stroke had succeeded, but there was now a vacancy in the Kingsguard. Everyone knew the knight that would fill it.

Jon Dayne swore his vow before Aegon in Pyke’s shattered hall, Dawn in hand. Ser Gerold Hightower draped the white cloak over his shoulders, and the six became seven once more.

As he looked at his new sword brothers, Jon feared they would not be long for this world. The kingsguard was old. Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell were nearing fifty, and Ser Berristan and Ser Lewyn were older still.

But Jon joined them happily, mourning their comrade and celebrating their victory. They returned to King’s landing by land, stopping at Casterly Rock, Highgarden and dozens of castles in between before passing through the Gate of Gods, and on toward the Red Keep. Jon Dayne was welcome by crowds of thousands, cheering for him as they never had for Jon Sand.

And Arianne’s smile was better than all of it. She looked elated as she saw him riding in, side by side with the king. He locked eyes to hers her smiled shifted to that of the Dornish woman’s smirk, the one she wore whenever she wished to pull him in, and he nearly felt his heart stop. But then the king dismounted and she had to become his betrothed again.

Queen Elia held her composure as she took in the new member of the Kingsguard, her face a mask, but Jon saw in her eyes her heart was breaking inside. He would have given up Dawn and the white cloak in an instant to bring her knight back to her, but he could not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t help but feel this was too short to encompass all that. Seemed way longer when I was writing. 
> 
> *shrug*


	7. The Smiling Knight’s Sucessor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out a pattern might be developing.

Arianne wed Aegon at the Great Sept of Baelor a fortnight later, with her Uncle Oberyn standing in for Prince Doran.

She forced herself to keep a straight face as she donned the maiden cloak. She hadn’t been a maiden for nearly nine years. She had fucked Jon that very morning.

It hadn’t been their first time. That had been the night he returned, eager to learn all she had to teach him. She guided him and he complied, following her instructions exactly. Then she’d ordered him to take her as hard as he could and she’d screamed.

She finally, _finally_ , had her dark knight.

She eyed him the whole time she walked toward Aegon, remembering the morning as she did. It had been in the early hours, before dawn, and they’d met in a secluded spot, one of the many they had found recently, and he’d fucked her against a wall as she bit into his shoulder.

They exchanged vows, and returned for the feast, and dined and drank until it was time for the bedding. Aegon was so drunk she practically had to carry him to the bed. He thrust into her a few times, and Arianne couldn’t help but miss Jon’s loving caresses and possessive passion. He had spoiled her.

If Aegon noticed the lack of blood on the sheets the following morning, he didn’t mention it.

She had been queen for a little less than a month when she found she was with child. She knew who’s it was.

Queen Elia was the first person she told. She told her everything.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for it.” she said, after Arianne shared her tale. “I held no love for Rhaegar, and so much for Arthur. He’d been my friend for as long as I could remember, my knight from the very beginning.” Arianne didn’t have to ask what that was like. She knew exactly what Arthur had been to Elia.

About half year after the pregnancy was announced, Ser Jaime Lannister returned with grave news. The knight had been sent to his father to determine if Lord Tywin would be fit to replace the ailing Jon Connington, who had caught a chill in the Iron Islands that the maesters couldn’t seem to purge.

Jaime went before the king himself, and declared his father a traitor to the realm.

“He’s been working against you for years, your majesty,” the knight said. “All the way back to Queen Arianne’s kidnapping by Darkstar. He bribed him, with the hopes that he would then betroth his granddaughter to the throne. He Promised the Ironborn riches to rebel, and he’s massing his forces, planning to take King’s landing by force on the grounds that the king is a bastard, the son of the late Arthur Dayne.” Jaime’s anger at the last offence was palpable. He had looked up to Ser Arthur as much as Jon had.

Aegon wanted to raise their own forces and march for the westlands at once, but the small council advised against such a move this time. Lord Tywin was the greatest strategist in the realm. He would not be taken by storm like the Greyjoys.

They suggested that he accuse Lord Tywin, and give him chance to explain himself. Aegon grudgingly agreed, and penned the letter.

Lord Tywin’s response was predictably indignant, and the Warden of the West demanded an apology. When Aegon sent the accusation again, Lord Tywin demanded trial by combat.

All knew who the champion would be. Gregor Clegane was Casterly Rock’s most infamous banner man, and known to be of incredible size and strength. He was more than eight feet tall, and called the Mountain that Rides. Outside of his hearing, he was called stone brained, inhuman, and a monster.

And Jon volunteered to be the one to fight him.

 

Jon had half expected the king and the small council to reject him. Perhaps a tiny part of him was hoping for it.

But Jon was one of the Kingsguard now, and it was their duty to defend the king in trial by combat. The Lord Commander had the right to name himself champion in Jon’s place, but he did not challenge him. No one did, save Arianne.

“Why must we grant Lord Tywin this trial?” she demanded of the council. “We have evidence of his treason, and evidence of his marchelling his forces can be found easy enough. Why must we partake in this farce of a duel?”

“If we don’t, Lord Tywin can claim his rights were not recognized, or that the king attacked him without provocation,” said Ser Garlan, who spoke for the Reachmen on the small council. “He could use such and argument to rally more lords to his cause. If this can be settled without a war, it is our duty to try.”

“What makes you think Lord Tywin will honor the verdict of this trial?” Arianne challenged him. “He will declare it illegitimate if he loses, and find some excuse to make war.”

Aegon held a hand for silence. “We shall not rest our hopes solely on the outcome of this trial. Ser Garland, write to your father, and Ser Gerold to your brother. Tell them to prepare the lords, but to hide their actions as best they can. The forces of the Reach will take them from the south. The two of you will lead those host when the time comes. And Ser Garland, send another letter to you sister, in Winterfell. The Starks will come down on them from the north. I will help you write it.”

“And what will we do, Your Majesty, while half the realm is at war?” Arianne asked with a air of challenge.

“We shall combine our strength with the Riverlands and take them from the east.” Aegon looked at Ser Oswell. “Write to your nephew at Harrenhal. The site of the grandest tourney in the realm’s history will make a fine place for the trial to occur.”

Aegon looked pleased with himself, and rest of the council with the king. Only Arianne and Jaime Lannister looked uneasy. They looked like Jon felt.

 

Arianne cornered Jon after the meeting. She was angry.

“What possessed you to want to fight the Mountain?” She demanded.

Jon had the gall to look guilty. “It is my duty as a knight of the Kingsguard to represent the king in such affairs,” he answered stiffly.

“Those cowards are using you, Jon! You’re just a pawn to them. They’re hoping your fight with Clegane will prevent war because they’re all afraid of having to march themselves.”

“If Lord Tywin makes war on us, the realm will bleed. If the death of one man can prevent the death of hundreds or thousands-“.

_“But it’s your death!”_ she nearly screamed at him. “Do you know what it was like to wait behind when you went to war? To not know if you would come back? Every day was torture, hoping for news of you, praying that you were safe.” She took his hand tightly. “I don’t want to have to go through that again.”

Jon wrapped her in his arms and kissed his head. “I will return. I promise.” He pulled back and looked at her. “I don’t intend to let Clegane win. I have a plan.”

She smiled. “Is it running away across the Narrow Sea to live in a manse in the Free Cities and make love to me for the rest of our days?”

Jon smiled back at her. “Not as good as that one, but it has its merits. Now come, the king will be missing us soon.”

Despite Aegon’s instance and her own pregnancy, Arianne refused not to go to Harrenhal. She refused to have to wait for news of the outcome, to have to be unsure for weeks after watching him depart.

She wanted to be there when he won.

She had to ride in the wheelhouse as often as not, with Aegon riding ahead. Jon always volunteered to stay behind with her and keep her company. She leaned out the open and window and talked to him as he rode, wishing she could pull him into the wheelhouse and be with him, but there were too many people in the column.

The King had made an open call to his banner men, and colorful array of knights from the Vale to the Stormlands has come. Many came from powerful houses, but were second and third sons, like Robar Royce, and Balon Swann. A particular oddity was the presence of Brienne of Tarth, who reminded Arianne of her cousin Obara.

They reached Harrenhal before the Lannisters, and found Lord Whent had rallied a force and housed them in the great castle. Lord Tywin would be outnumbered and surrounded.

As he waited for his foe, Arianne saw that Jon spent a good deal of time speaking with prince Oberyn. He’d said he had a plan to defeat the Mountain, but he hadn't told her.

When Lord Tywin arrived from the west, he made a grander picture than the king, in is bright red armor adorned with the lion of his house, and the grand cloth of gold cloak. His force, however, was smaller than the kings, and that was what would make the difference.

The first time Arianne saw the Mountain with her own eyes, she felt true fear for Jon. She’d heard the man was large, but words could not do justice to his monstrous presence.

“You’re going to fight _that_?” she asked him as they watched Clegane ride though the gates of Harrenhal.

“I’m going to kill that,” Jon answered, utterly soloem, without a hint of arrogance. Arianne found a strange comfort in that. Arrogant men got killed. She loved her uncle Oberyn, and knew he was as skilled as fighter as could be, but one day his overconfidence would get him killed.

She would never fear for Jon that way. He knew his skills, and the limits of them. If he said he could kill this great beast, he could do it.

Clegane wore a suit of gray plate that seemed to double his bulk. His greatsword would take any normal knight both arms to simply lift, but he wielded it in one hand. On his shield, Lord Tywin had had a black lion painted in the place of Ser Gregor’s own arms.

Jon had no shield, but he had strapped bucklers to his forearms, and on them were the sun and spear of House Martell, and the three headed dragon of House Targaryen. He wore greaves and gauntlets, but beside that his only armor was leather and padding, all the white of the Kingsguard. The face plate had been removed from his helm, and three metal bars had been welded there. He would be able to move more freely and see more clearly than his foe, and that was how he planned to win.

When instead of Dawn, he came out armed with a long spear, the kind her uncle used, it all came together.

Arianne wished she could more openly wish him luck, perhaps with a favor for him to wear, but she could not draw more suspension to them. She was forced to be the queen, and he a simple knight in her husband's guard.

When the duel began, the two combatants circled one another. When the Mountain became impatient, he charged at Jon, swinging his sword down.

Jon rolled aside and backed a way, and jabbed at Clegane’s sides. Jon never let Ser Gregor close enough to hit him, and kept finding ways to jab at him around his shield.

Soon, Jon was calling out insults, enraging his foe. He called him, monster, murderer, and mad dog. Lord Tywin’s champion grew more angry, his swings more wild, until he screamed and charged headlong at Jon, his sword raised high over his head and his shield to low to block his body.

Jon drove his spear into the pit under the mountains arm. The massive knight howled in pain, and then again after Jon pulled the spear out, and struck the back of his knee.

The Mountain went down on one knee, attempting to fend off the white knight, but he could hardly raise his sword arm. Jon moved around him, like a wolf that knew its prey was near its end.

Across the yard, Arianne saw Lord Tywin’s face change. The lord of Casterly Rock was famous for his firm, stonelike face, but now there was fear. Well hidden fear, but fear none the less.

Ser Gregor was unable to move fast enough to keep Jon from getting behind him, and Jon stuck his other leg, bringing him down. Then Jon stabbed at the Mountain’s sword arm, finding the gaps in his foe’s armor until the great sword fell from his hand. Jon rushed grab it, then brought the point down hard on Clegane’s neck.

Lord Tywin’s champion shuddered and died as Jon Dayne stood over him, holding the Mountain’s own massive sword.

Lord Tywin looked liked a ghost. It made Arianne smile. Her knight had not let her down.

Aegon looked smug. “Lord Tywin,” he called. “It seems my knight has bested yours. The gods find you guilty of treason against the crown. You will return with me to King’s Landing to face justice.”

Lannister’s face contorted in rage. “You do not command me, boy!”

A cry was heard, and some of the Lannister men were fighting with men that the king had brought. Before long, the yard was brawl, and Arianne was being led away by the remaining members of the Kingsguard. She looked back and saw Jon, who had picked up the greatsword again, and was rushing into the fray. She felt a wave of anger. He had just fought one of the most monstrous knights in the realm. Too often, it seemed, he shouldered more of the burden than any other, and they all let him.

She wanted to scream at the others, to run out to him, but Ser Lewy held her back.

“You carry the royal child, your majesty. We cannot risk your safety.” When she relented and came with him, he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, child. We will try to help him, but you know Ser Jon would want you safe first. Think of he would do if you were lost, or the child.”

She nodded mutley and followed, praying for her knight’s safety. It was all they let her do for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look at what Obyren could have easily done if he had worn a damn helmet with a faceplate. Sorry for the potentially misleading tittle. Best I could come up with.


	8. The War of the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realm erupts in war as one of the king’s mightiest bannerman rebels against the Iron Throne. Ser Jon spearheads the King’s armies, and Arianne refuses to be left at home.

Lord Tywin had escaped in the chaos of the fight, but more of his men had died than the king’s. They had pursued him as far as the could, but soon lost the trail. Aegon immediately sent ravens to the lords Stark, Tyrell, and Hightower, informing them of Lannisters fleeing, and to began their march on the Westlands.

For protecting Ser Jaime during the battle, Brienne of Tarth was knighted, the first lady knight anyone could remember. Sandor Clegane, brother of the Mountain, had fought against the Lannister men when the fighting broke out, and swore himself to Aegon. Ser Amory Lorch, one Lord Tywin’s principle bannerman, had been captured. It was a grand victory for the king.

They stayed at Harrenhal after the clash. It was there that Arianne gave birth to her child, a little prince with dark curly hair like her own.

“I wish to name him for his father.” Arianne told Jon one evening, as she nursed the boy and he stood guard.

“There are so many Aegons, though.” Jon said. “He might get lost.”

“No, Jon. I’ll not name him for Aegon. I wish to name him for his _father_.”

Jon’s heart nearly stopped. Surely she wouldn’t? The closeness of their relationship already made some suspicious. “It would not be appropriate for a prince to be named for knight.” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“One of the Aegons, Rhaegar’s grandfather, he named his son for the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard.” Arianne reminded him.

“I am hardly Ser Duncan the Tall, your majesty.”

“No,” she agreed. “You are Ser Jon Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, the knight who forced the Ironborn king to kneel, and then captured their greatest captain, the knight who rescued his king’s betrothed from a traitor’s castle, the knight who was the king’s own champion in trial by combat.” Jon looked embarrassed as she listed his accomplishments. Arinne felt herself growing rather warm as well. “Don’t you see, Jon? It would be easy to convince Aegon to name the prince for his most able knight.”

Jon finally relented. “If that is your wish,” he said.

Aegon readily agreed, and the prince was proclaimed Jon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne. Then the king and his force marched west, to pursue Lord Tywin.

Arianne returned to King’s Landing, but left as soon as possible for the Westlands, leaving Young Jon in the care of the Dowager Queens Elia and Rhaella, and Princess Daenerys, Lady of Dragonstone. It hurt to leave her son in the care of another, more than she could have imagined, but she had to. She would not spend another war wanting for news. Before she left, she sent word to her cousins at Sunspear. The Sand Snakes would meet with her, and help her fight the Lannisters on Dorne’s behalf.

Word reached her that much of Lord Tywin’s force had been defeated, but not without cost. The Westermen were fighting on their own ground. The Reachmen had been stalled along the Golden Road, and the king’s host was being harried as they marched. The Stark host was having the most success, having pushed past the Golden Tooth. It was said of the Starks that fought beside great direwolves that could bring down warhorse and the knights that rode them, but even they had slowed as they closed in on Casterly Rock and Lannisport.

Already, Ser Oswell Whent had fallen. Aegon named Balon Swann to the Kingsguard in his place, and the other knights had a darks suspicion he would not be the only change by the time the War of the West was over.

It took Arianne some time to travel to where the king’s host was, but when she finally arrived, their armies had progressed dramatically. She had not been surprised at all to hear so much of it was Jon’s doing.

With small bands of skilled fighters, he’d snuck deep into enemy lands, raiding camps and robbing supply lines in the style of bandits. Most importantly, he gave the spoils to the smallfolk, and promised that King Aegon would help them and give them justice. He did not let his own men rape or pillage, and he punished Lannister men that did. Before long, the conscripted fighters were changing sides in large numbers, joining the king, who met them with open arms. The King’s host then traveled into the Westerlands unhindered, and relieved the stalled forces of the Reach and the North by taking their enemies from behind. It was said of Jon that he had scaled the walls of Deep Den in the dead of night, and taken the castle practically single handedly. In battle, he was at the front of a every charge, and would go to where fighting was fiercest, and in his white cloak he would inspire his men to fight with renewed valor.

She only wished Ser Arthur Dayne could see him now. She knew he would be as proud as she was.

The soldiers and small folk alike were joyous to see their queen, and Arianne worked to be a queen worthy of such cheers. She distributed food and had her men help rebuild what had been destroyed. Her father has instructed her well in the subtleties of ruling, and one his most important lessons was to never disregard the small folk. A princess with the love and loyalty of the masses would always be safer, not matter what the lords did.

The siege of Casterly Rock set in soon after her arrival. After the lord of Lannisport surrendered, Aegon took up residence in his manse. He was always busy with his war council, staying up long into the night speaking to them, to the point where he never lasted long when he came to their bed. She would then leave to meet Jon, who would never fail to satisfy her, no matter how tired he was.

 

The siege had been going on near a month, and nearing stagnation when help arrived from the most unlikely of places. Tyrion Lannister, Lord Tywin’s second son, the dwarf he openly despised, came before the king and council, escorted by his brother Jaime.

“I can get you into the castle,” the small man stated boldly. The dwarf went on to speak of tunnels and caves beneath the Rock, passages through which fighters could get into the castle and break the siege. When asked why Ser Jaime has not been able to do this, Tyrion laughed.

“My father gave me the task of overseeing Casterly Rock’s sewers for my sixteenth name day,” the dwarf said with dry smile. “I learned many things from that.”

Ser Jaime vouched for his brother’s honor and honesty, and a plan was made. Aegon insisted on leading the party.

“For so much of this war, and the last, I have not been at the front, as a king should be as often as he is able,” he said, in reply to his councils protest. “Besides,” he clapped Jon on the shoulder. “I’ll have the greatest knight in the realm by my side.”

 

In the dead of night, Tyrion led King Aegon, along with Jon Dayne, Balon Swann, Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Obara Sand, Sandor Clegane, and small party of hand picked knights and men at arms through the bowels of the Rock.

They snuck up into the castle, clad in Lannister livery taken from Lannisport, and opened the gates. Ser Jamie lost his hand holding the gatehouse, but the army of the king, led by the Tyrell brothers, Garlan and Loras, and the rest of the Kingsguard, came into the castle. Aegon and his small band then fought their way into the castle proper.

As Jon fought through waves of the crimson clad soldiers, he saw Aegon fall to a knight he’d been fighting. Jon cut his way to his king, pulled him back as their allies pushed into the keep.

The wound was grievous, and both Aegon and Jon knew it would be fatal. The King grasped Jon’s hands and looked at him pleadingly.

“My son, Jon,” Aegon sputtered, his lips covered in blood, “Protect him. Teach him. Raise him.”

Jon nodded, unable to tell his king the truth. “I will. As if he were my own.”

An expression of peace came over the Aegon’s dying face, and he went limp in his knight’s arms. The king was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not post the finale for a while. Everything else was written before posting and now my schedule is full. Hope you have enjoyed thus far, thanks for reading, feel free to share any thoughts you may have.


	9. Wish Upon a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the War of the West, and coming to terms with the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting. Hope this lives up to the hype.

By the time dawn broke, the Rock had fallen, but so had the king, with two of his Kingsguard. In their place, Arianne named Benjen Stark and Obara Sand. Jaime Lannister, now short a sword hand, had been honorably relieved of his duty, and Ser Loras Tyrell had donned the white cloak in his stead. They joined Ser Jon Dayne, Ser Balon Swann, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower as the the kingsguard of Jon Targaryen, and his mother, Queen Regent Arianne Martell.

Lord Tywin had not yielded, even with Dawn at his neck, and it has fallen for Jon to execute the rebel. Jaime Lannister, now no longer of the white swords, was named lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, and wed Lady Brienne, who had declined a place in the Kingsguard to do so. She would be the captain of her husbands guard. Tyrion was named Hand of the King, and immediately took to the office. Arianne was confident that her son would be surrounded by good, wise people as he was raised for the throne.

After the return home with Aegon’s body, her son was crowned as King Jon Targaryen, first of his name. Then she left for Sunspear, to deliver the remains of Prince Lewyn, and show Prince Doran his grandson.

 

It was good to be home, if even temporally.

Prince Lewyn was given a grand funeral, with all the honors that a knight of such repute deserved. She was sad to to see her great uncle gone, but the man had died as he lived, sword in hand, fighting for his king.

It was wonderful to be back with all seven of the Sand Snakes. The little ones had grown so much. Prince Oberyn seemed to have finally settled down, content with the life he had lived thus far. He was immensely proud of Obara, and happier than Arianne had ever seen him to be surrounded by his whole family, for the first time in years.

Ashara Dayne was there, and embraced her son warmly, but Jon seemed distant. When Arianne questioned him about it, he simply brushed her off. When she persuaded, he said not to worry. He was so rarely adamant about anything that she let it slide.

The feast that Prince Doran threw was the greatest Sunspear has seen in decades. The food was exquisite, the entertainment captivating, and the company beloved. As the night went on, Arianne played at being tired, and begged her father for leave. Ser Jon escorted her to her chambers, and when she arrived, she pulled him in and closed the door behind her.

She could not remember the last time they had been able to be together with no troubles. Jon had long since given in to her, devoting his energy instead to pleasing her in every conceivable fashion. It had been so long since they’d had time to explore each other, to have more than rushed and hurried encounters, when anyone could have found them.

Jon takes his time, making complete use of their privacy. She manages to get him shirtless, but she is stopped before she can reveil anymore of him. He pulls off her dress and kisses her as he wrapped her in his embrace.

Ser Jon was the son of a Northerner, and had been raised in the south. He had ties to  
gods old and new, but he followed neither the Seven nor the spirits in the Weirwoods with any zeal. The only gods he worshiped were honor and duty.

But tonight… tonight he would worship _her_.

His touches are full of passion and desire and love. She trembles under his ministrations, responding to his touch in a way that he feeds on, just as he feeds on her. She hasn’t thought of any other lovers in years simply because she hasn’t need to. Jon gives her all the pleasure could ever want.

She loses track of how much time he spends on her, but eventually, between peaks, she pushed him off of her and get his pants off. She pulls him up and puts him on his back on the bed and mounts him, moving her hips in hope of bringing him even some of the pleasure he tries so hard to give to her.

He spills inside her, and she bask in the warmth of it. It is far from the last time it occurs that night.

 

She woke the next morning and he is the first thing she see. She cannot imagine a better way to start.

She quickly corrected herself after he woke himself and moves over to her.

He is as caring as ever, but there is something she sees in his eyes that betrays troubles within. She refuses to take no for answer this time.

“Its my father,” he finally told her. “When Brandon and Benjen Stark saw me, it was like they saw a ghost.”

“The identity of your father has never bothered you before,” she reminded him. “What man ever done for you?”

“My mother never told him.” Jon said. “He had no idea of my birth.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. “I want to find him”, he said eventually. “I just want to know.”

Arianne nodded. “Then I will bring you too him.”

 

Lady Ashara bit her lip. Jon hadn’t asked about the identity of his father since he was a small boy. But he was man-grown now, and he has earned the right to know.

“You’re father was Eddard Stark,” she told him. “Just after you were born, I received a letter from him, telling me he had joined the Night’s Watch.” she shrugged. “I thought it best not to tell him.”

Ser Benjen looked the most surprised by the revelation. The news that his stoic, solem brother had fathered a bastard was disarming.

Arianne took Jon’s hand. “Jon, if you wish, I could take you to him.”

Jon shook his head. “No, your majesty. You do not need-”

“Jon,” she cut him off. “Please, for the gods’ sakes, be selfish for once in your life. We want to give you this.”

Jon looked stunned. He didn’t say a word. Arianne realized his eyes were glistening. Then he gave her the truest smile she had seen on him.

“Thank you, your majesty. I would love to go North with you.” A touch of slyness crept into his smile. “On purely official business, of course.”

 

The trip to White Harbor from Sunspear is uneventful, but Jon had objections to that. He has spent his life fighting to make the realm uneventful, and he damn well wanted to enjoy it.

Lord Brandon met them on the docks of White Harbor, Lord Manderly in tow. The queen and her son where given every luxury the North could offer. Ser Benjen embraced his brother and nieces and nephews warmly. Jon looked on, feeling almost surreal. Those were his uncles and cousins. But he didn’t feel at home.

He had expected to feel something when he stepped onto Northern soil for first time, and again when he first went to Winterfell. There was no sense of immediate belonging. Even in the crypts below the castle, there was only the vaguest sense that this was any place he belonged.

Home was not a place, he realized. Home was his brothers in the Kingsguard. Home was laughing with Oberyn Martell and Sand Snakes. Home was his nephew, Edric, looking at him like he’d once looked at Ser Arthur.

Home was Arianne’s smile, her warm embraces in the night. Home was Little Jon, holding his finger in his tiny hand, taking his first steps. Home was the people he had become a knight for. The people he loved.

 

“Samwell, could come in here please?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Could you bring my that letter from brother, Brandon? About the queen?”

Sam nodded and began looking as Lord Commander Stark massaged his temples. What reason could the queen have for coming all the way to the Wall?

“Here you are, my lord.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Ned squinted at Maester Luwin’s neat script. He must’ve read over the letter a half dozen times before now, as if it would somehow give some explanation. But the letter yielded nothing new.

He heard a knock on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Sam was there, visibly nervous. “My lord, the royal party has arrived!”

Ned stood up and made for the door as Sam jumped aside. He went down the steps of the tower, cursing the Dornish queen for coming for no apparent reason. Curse these southern women and their flights of fancy.

_Not all of them._

Ned shook the thought from his head. He could dwell on the past later. Now, he had to be the Lord Commander.

Ned saw the queen first, like a beacon of warmth in the snow. Then he saw her guard and his breath caught in his throat.

It was like looking in a mirror. He saw his own face, his own eyes, in this man he’d never seen. The only difference was the hair. The young knight’s hair was ink black. He’d seen hair like before. It filled his dreams, always accompanied by haunting violet…

_Oh gods…_

For the first time in his life, Ned Stark was looking at the face of his son.

 

Arianne watched with bated breath as the man in white approached the man in black.

She cleared her throat. “My lord, I present Ser Jon Dayne of my kingsguard, my sworn sword.”

Eddard’s eyes shot open. “...Jon… Dayne…”

With that the Northernman rushed forward and embraced Jon, tears flowing down his face. Jon was taken back a first, but soon returned the embrace with vigor.

“By the gods,” Eddard whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Jon reassured him, tightness in his voice. “I’m here now.”

 

The more Ned learned of the son he hadn’t know he’d had, the more proud and ashamed he felt. Proud that the boy had grown into the greatest knight in living memory, ashamed that he hadn’t been there at all.

He thanks the gods the Jon bares him no ill will. He supposes Ashara was to thank for that. It was thanks to her that boy was raised well enough to not need him.

When first he saw Ahsara again, his heart nearly stopped. She had come behind Jon and the queen, arriving with the rest of the party.  

If anything, she has grown more beautiful with age, the years having given her a regal air. She enters the hall, wearing furs borrowed from Lady Stark, and the hall feels like a new fire has been lit.

She walked over to him, smiling a half smile, like she knew a secret no one else did.

“You grew a beard,” She tells him. Her smile widens, but her eyes are sad. “It is good to see you again, Ned.”

Ned stumbles to his feet and gives a hasty bow. “At your service, my lady.”

Ashara smirks at Arianne. “He was always so formal. Now you know where Jon gets it.”  

She takes Ned’s hands in hers and pulls him too her. “It’s been so long, my quiet wolf.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Why did you have to leave me?”

“I’m sorry, my love.” Ned almost couldn’t look Ashara in her eyes, but after haunting him for so long, he couldn’t look away. “I had a duty to my-”

“Duty!” she shouted at him. “What duty is more important than a father to a son, a-”  
She swallowed. “A husband to a wife?”

Ned felt tears running down his cheek. “I’m so sorry. Every day, I’ve regretted not living my life with you.” He looked down in shame. “And now I’ve made vow that forbids me from ever being with you.”

Arianne cleared her throat. “Actually, Lord Commander Stark, it is within royal authority to dissolve oaths. Even to the Night’s Watch.” She smiled at him with more kindness than he deserved. “I will inform your men myself. I exchange, I will grant a steady supply of food and supplies to come to the Watch on behalf of the crown, and will provide royal assistance in rebuilding the old castles.”

Ned was stunned. “Your, majesty is too kind,” he managed. “I’m hardly in a position to make request, but my steward, Samwell, he’s too gifted for the Wall. If arrangements could be made for him to go to the Citadel, I know he would do great things.”

Arianne nodded. “It will be done, Lord Stark. I only ask one thing from you.”

“Anything, your majesty.”

“Be a good husband to Lady Ashara and a good father to Jon.”

Ned nodded. “I will. I swear. Thank you, your majesty.”

 

Ned returned below the Neck for the first time since Harrenhal. This time it was as a married man. He and Ashara had married at the Godswood in Winterfell before departing south. They would go to Dorne, and be lord and lady of High Hermitage, which since Jon’s ascension to the Kingsguard had been managed s steward.

Jon would return to King’s Landing with Arianne, and together they would raise Young Jon to be a good king.

“You know, Jon,” Arianne said, pulling him into the bed. “I’ve been thinking. I was able to absolve your father of his dept. I was able to do the same for Ser Jaime. That sets a precedent, No “What do you mean, my love?”

She gave him her Dornishwoman’s smile that he loved so much. “I mean that, with a little scheming, I just might be able to help you shed that troublesome white cloak. And, as a young, widowed, queen, I am in need of a man to assist me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him for a loving kiss.

“I want us to be married, Jon.” she whispered to him.

“I would love that, Arianne.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand and pushed him down onto the bed.

“I am with child”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably a bit sappy, but I wanted a happy ending, even if its not terribly feasible in this story or the base. I intend to write more. Eventually. Maybe. I'll try. Thanks for indulging me. Feedback always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting through that. Comments and criticism of all kinds welcome.


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